


The Landscape of Happily Ever After

by anonymousAlchemist, marywhale



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, a love letter to barold j bluejeans, just a real fucking good day for the boy, with apologies to barry bluejeans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:59:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/marywhale/pseuds/marywhale
Summary: Barry wakes up curled around Lup, loosely clinging to the solid shape of her body lying next to his. It’s early still. They have the day off and no plans for hours. The morning sun creeps in through the blinds and paints their bedroom with stripes of shadow and light. Lup has the faint imprint of her pillowcase on her cheek and is wearing nothing but the sheets. She is lovely and warm and alive and already awake, watching him.Barry smiles and reaches up to rub his eyes. “Hi,” he whispers, voice rough from sleep. “Morning.”





	The Landscape of Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> anonymousAlchemist: So do you wanna procrastinate on other fic by just writing eight thousand words about Barold Bluejeans having a really good day?
> 
> marywhale: You had me at "procrastinate."

Barry wakes up curled around Lup, loosely clinging to the solid shape of her body lying next to his. It’s early still. They have the day off and no plans for hours. The morning sun creeps in through the blinds and paints their bedroom with stripes of shadow and light. Lup has the faint imprint of her pillowcase on her cheek and is wearing nothing but the sheets. She is lovely and warm and alive and already awake, watching him.

Barry smiles and reaches up to rub his eyes. “Hi,” he whispers, voice rough from sleep. “Morning.”

When he tries to pull back, to give her space, Lup hooks one of her leg around his and pulls him closer instead. She rolls them over so he’s on top of her, a smile on her face, sleepy, content. “Hi,” she says, and brushes her burn-calloused fingertips over his cheek, drawing him down into a kiss.

Barry feels Lup relax as he kisses her. She stops touching his cheek, starts sinking into the mattress as she stretches her arms over her head. Her back arches, and a pleased, involuntary sound breaks free from Barry’s throat as her chest presses against his.

When the kiss breaks, a smile flits across Lup’s face, mischief sparking in her eyes, and she rolls their hips together, slow. Her short hair messy around her head, spread out over the pillow like a halo.

She’s the most beautiful thing Barry’s ever seen and he needs to lean in, needs to kiss her again, needs to touch her the way she’s asking him to. Her skin is tanned and freckled and warm. His hands slide up her arms and they lace their fingers together as he rocks down against her, and Lup winds her other leg around him too, pressing a heel into his thigh.

They move together, unhurried, and Barry is right where he’s supposed to be , listening to the little sounds Lup makes, kissing her lips, her shoulders, the thin scar on her jaw she got running from the cops when she and Taako were teenagers. Drawing those sounds out of her as she grinds up against him, setting the pace just how she wants it, holding Barry right where she wants him.

His head falls to her shoulder, breath ghosting over her neck, and Lup shudders under him, tightening her grip on his hands and her legs around his hips as she comes and Barry’s there too, following her a moment later — undone by this, and her, and the morning.

Once he can think again, Barry presses his lips to Lup’s neck, blows a raspberry against her skin just to make her laugh and swat at him as she twitches away.

“Don’t you fucking dare, babe,” she says, and pushes at his shoulders, wiggling her way out from under him. She stands beside the bed, naked, all her edges in soft focus because his glasses are still on the nightstand. His wife, alive, in her body.

Barry knows how he looks right now, lovesick and satisfied as he smiles up at her. “You’re amazing.”

“You’re a nerd.” Lup smiles back at him and leans down, presses a kiss to his forehead. She stays close, so he can see her face as she wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Shower next?”

Barry gets out of bed, fast.

#  


Lup makes french toast for breakfast and Barry brews the coffee. “We’re out of cream,” she says, after stealing the last of it for herself. “Babe?”

“Sure,” Barry says, around a mouthful of his syrupy, cinnamon scented breakfast. “I’ll run to the store. Need anything for family dinner?”

Lup shakes her head and cuts the corner off the piece of french toast on her plate. “Taako’s bringing supplies. We’re good. Maybe some bread?” 

She leans over and presses a sticky kiss to his lips. Her hair is still damp from the shower and she’s wearing a sweatshirt and leggings. She looks soft and cozy. Barry sometimes feels like he’s not big enough to contain all the love he holds for this woman. “Bread and cream,” he says. “Got it.”

The grocery store isn’t far. Barry puts on his coat and his shoes and heads out into the world, hands tucked in his pockets against the brisk wind.

It’s early and when he reaches the store, a uniformed teenager is just starting to drag buckets of flowers outside, half-heartedly constructing a display. They’re nothing special — some weathered roses, poorly-dyed daisies, a few gerberas — and Lup’s not a flower person, but one of the daisy bouquets is trying its hardest to be red. The tips of some petals are vibrant and bright, but mostly the daisies are a spotty, muted pink-orange. Barry stands there, smiling down at the tacky, earnest flowers for a long moment, then plucks them from the bucket and carries them inside.

He finds cream and bread and stands in line to pay too much for chintzy flowers. There’s a halfling woman behind him in line who keeps stealing glances at his face, keeps twisting the hem of her fleece-lined denim jacket in her hands. Barry buys his groceries and when he turns to leave she touches his elbow.

“I, um, I’m sorry,” she says. “This is weird. Are you — him?”

Barry turns to look at her, flowers in hand, and shrugs. “Depends which him you mean.”

“Oh right, sorry.” She looks down at her hands. Barry isn’t sure how to make her feel more comfortable. He’s still not used to this — to being recognized or to being someone people feel intimidated talking to. He’s just… Barry. He’s always just been Barry. “Mr. Bluejeans?”

Barry smiles because it usually helps and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, that’s me,” he says. “Just Barry is fine though. Nice to meet you...”

“Eliza,” Eliza says, shuffling her feet. She takes a deep breath and steels herself before looking up at him, brown eyes fierce. She’s not that old. Probably a college kid, judging by the tote bag full of books on her shoulder and the ramen cups she just bought. “You’re my favourite,” she says. “I know that’s — maybe that’s weird, but you are, and I just — thank you. For saving the world.”

Barry never knows what to say to people. Usually Lup’s around to defuse the situation for him. She’d make a joke or say something sincere and heartfelt — whatever she thought was needed. Barry can only shift awkwardly in place because now it’s _his_ turn to not be able to look Eliza in the eyes. “Thanks,” he says, staring at her bag instead. There’s a book cover just peeking out and he thinks he recognizes it. “Is that — are you reading Harris and Burke’s _Rules of Life and Death_?”

Eliza seems baffled by the question for a split second, and then she’s hurriedly setting her groceries down on the floor and pulling the textbook from her bag. “Yeah!” she says. “It’s really interesting. We just started chapter seven at school. I like what they say about respecting the lives of everything once living, but there’s this part in chapter four where they’d trying to explain why blood from a living thing is sometimes a necessary component to necromancy, and I —”

“Oh yeah, they’re huge hypocrites,” Barry agrees, relaxing as he leans over to look down at the book. “Are you reading _Powering Through: The Art of UnDying_ by Roxanne Knight too? She has some interesting things to say about —”

Eliza’s already nodding, reaching into her bag to pull out Knight’s book. “I like her a lot. You can tell she really knows what she’s doing, you know? That she’s got experience.”

“And she’s funny,” Barry says, grinning at Eliza. “What else is on your reading list? I might have some suggestions.”

Barry meets a lot of people interested in necromancy, with his new job, but not a lot of people he can _talk_ to about it. He’s still beaming when he makes it home, holding the daisies behind his back. 

Lup’s in the living room, sprawled out across the couch with music playing and a book in her hands. “Took you long enough,” she says, looking up at him. She pauses, eyes on his face, his smile. “Good trip?”

“Met a fan who’s studying necromancy.” He pauses. “Academically.” It’s a weird line for a former lich to have to draw, delineating what’s acceptable and unacceptable according to the laws of life and death. “We had a nice chat.”

“Aw, babe. You got nerd time.”

“I got a lot of nerd time.” Barry produces the flowers from behind his back and presents them to Lup. They’ve been out of water for a while now and they’re starting to droop, even more than they already were at the grocery store. They’re wrapped in a plastic grocery bag because the store was out of cellophane. “And I got these for you.”

Lup takes one look at the flowers and bursts out laughing, then gets up off the couch so she can take them and pull Barry into a kiss. “They’re hideous,” she says. “Thank you. I love them.”

Barry puts the daisies in a vase and Lup puts the arrangement smack-dab in the center of the kitchen table. They contemplate it in comfortable silence. The flowers really are hideous — they’re the wrong color for the kitchen, and half the blooms aren’t open, along with the aforementioned blotchiness. Barry’s pretty proud of his purchase.

He’s about to say something — to make a joke about it being a good thing Merle’s coming over so he can perk them up — when Lup suddenly smacks her forehead. 

“Shit, what time is it?” 

Barry peeks at his watch. “Quarter past eleven, why?” 

Lup groans, and turns on her heel to grab her bag and wand from the living room. 

“I forgot I told Ango that I’d help him with his grand fireball — I gotta run over to the school. You okay here, or do you wanna come with?” 

She walks back over and Barry hums a moment, absently twining his and Lup’s fingers together. Lup doesn’t exactly teach at Taako’s school, but he knows that she enjoys her time with Angus, and that’s where he’s being tutored. 

“I’m a hundred and fifty-five, honey, I think I’ll be fine,” he says. 

She snort-laughs. “That’s like a _baby_ in elf years.”  They’ve had the age argument a thousand times. One of them is cradle-robber, but neither of them know _which_ one.  “Okay. I’ll be back before it’s time to make dinner.” 

She leans over and kisses him on the lips. “Love you!” 

“Love you too,” he says. 

She untangles their hands and walks to the coat closet. “How cold is it, babe?” 

“Not too bad,” Barry says. “Probably okay with a jacket?” 

“Okay,” she says, picking out one of Barry’s jean jackets, the old one from cycle 48, miraculously still intact, but faded from many washings. “I’m taking yours.” 

She shrugs it on. It’s too big for her, but he loves it when she wears his clothing. Lup glances back at him and smirks, tossing her hair as she walks out the door. 

“See you, babe!” she calls. 

He sighs, smiles. She knows exactly what she does to him. 

It does leave him at loose ends for the afternoon, but if Lup isn’t going to be around for the next couple of hours, then, well. Barry’s going to make himself lunch and he’s going to make the sort of sandwich that Lup mocks him for liking, but buys the supplies for anyway, then do some work on his pet projects.

He butters fluffy white bread  — utterly devoid of nutritional value — and drains a can of tuna. He gets green onions and mayonnaise from the full-up fridge, slices the onions and dumps them in a bowl with the tuna and a heaping spoonful of mayo. He mixes it together to make a quick tuna salad and sandwiches it between his bread slices. Barry adds a couple sweet pickles to the plate and takes it down to the basement.

His lab didn’t come with the house. It was the effort of multiple weekends spent retrofitting the space into a university-grade magical research laboratory. There are medical-grade bio-tubes with a spare set of bodies for him and Lup, a couple cadaver drawers enchanted with a permanent frost spell to keep the bodies fresh, and an electric generator to aid in reanimation.

It smells a little like formaldehyde, but Barry doesn’t notice.

His desk is covered in notebooks, old textbooks, and tomes of varying legality. He sweeps some of them aside to make room for his lunch. He's in the middle of conducting a half-dozen experiments, only some of which skirt the boundaries of mortality laws. Perks of being a reaper include being able to confiscate other necromancers' work. Most of them — nearly all — aren't at the caliber Barry’s working at, but there are some really interesting differences between death in Faerun and death on their home plane. 

Death in Faerun is more, for a lack of a better word, _personal_ — and that leads to changes in the way that certain spells are cast — components, energy differentials. He's not surprised necromancers have such a bad reputation here. 

Barry takes an absent-minded bite of his sandwich while he scans his notes. The lab is a hobby, really, and most of the time everything is left under stasis spells. There's a thing with the brainstem and misapplied versions of "Command" he could work on, the weird spleen project, and another experiment trying to determine if particular energy sources can lead to changes in initial lich-formation, aesthetically speaking. They're small experiments, but they're fun. Not to mention the work he's chipping away at, trying to figure out how to get around anti-lich wards. He's trying to work it out himself without looping Lucretia in, but he's beginning to suspect that he might need her expertise. She owes him one anyway. She owes him a lot of ones. 

The thought of all his projects in-progress is satisfying. It's the sort of thing he could never do on the Starblaster, or in a rented lab on any of the worlds they visited, or in the cave where he stayed when not searching for Lup. It's nice that he can work on long-running experiments, that he doesn't have to restrict himself to what’s mission-applicable, or to what will take less than twelve months to do. 

Still, what he really wants is to raise a few thralls and have a chat — and by have a chat, he means that he'd like to see what level of sentience they have with varying grades of spell-slot allocation — but that’s so far beyond the bounds of astral legality that he'd have to put _himself_ in ghost jail. It’s a shame, because raising some dead would really advance his research. Maybe he'll ask the Raven Queen if he can have a permit for scientific purposes. 

The sandwich is pretty good, but he used too much mayo. He puts it down, chewing as he scans his list. Maybe he'll work on the spleen thing, maybe he'll just break down another body. He needs more parts for the lich appearance experiment.

First, he has to finish his lunch. 

He cleans up his desk with one hand, eats with other while he piles notebooks haphazardly, setting his notes aside and putting his pens back in the cup he keeps them in. It was a gift from Lup and says “NUMBER ONE NEC(ROMANCER).” He gave her one that says “HEY BABY ARE YOU A FIRE? CAUSE YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE” in return and she’d cracked up and promised to cherish it. It’s on her desk at work, in the astral plane. Barry’s stays in his lab because he’s technically on probation for the lich thing. He doesn’t want to push it. 

Sandwich finished, he walks to the drawers and opens one, pulling the cadaver drawer out. 

Barry likes breaking down bodies. He likes working with his hands. It's like butchering — an underappreciated art form. He levitates the cadaver out of the drawer — it's a marvelous luxury, to have bodies on hand — and places it on the slab on the far side of the lab, near the tubes with the extra bodies for Lup and him. They're about 70 percent complete, Barry estimates. There had been an incident at work a few months ago and he's growing new ones, just in case. He likes to have a few on hand. It always takes longer when he’s only working from blood. 

The cadaver hits the slab with a solid thump. Barry puts on a pair of gloves, and lays out the instruments he needs for this — his bone saw, scalpels, forceps, scissors, an array of elevators and dissectors and surgical spatulas, probes, and picks. Time for some old-fashioned dissection. It reminds him of lab in undergrad. Dissecting bodies was the first thing you learned in NEC-001. It weeded out people with weak stomachs. 

Barry slides a block under the cadaver to arch its back and extend its torso for better access, then cuts a thin Y-shaped incision into is and peels the skin back to reveal red flesh underneath. Perfect condition.

He hums as he works — the song he and Lup performed on Tessaralia. 

#

“Babe?” Lup’s voice floats through the doorway to the basement. “You home?” 

“Ba-abe,” Taako’s voice minces mockingly. “You ho-ome?” 

The sound of a brief scuffle. A muffled “hey!” and a quiet “geddoff!” Barry chuckles to himself and puts down his scalpel. 

“In the basement!” he calls back. 

“Okay!” Lup yells, quickly followed by Taako’s “Get up here, Barold!” 

“One second!” Barry yells back as he sets a stasis spell over the whole cadaver, table, instruments setup. They immediately frost over, a sign that the spell should keep until the next morning. He got most of the organs out, at least. Barry peels off his gloves and tosses them in the biological waste receptacle. A quick prestidigitation cleans his hands of any remaining gunk, and then he’s taking the steps two at a time upstairs. 

He’s greeted by the familiar sight of Taako sitting next to Lup at his kitchen table, eating his food. More precisely, eating his chips and Lup’s homemade hummus. Not out of bowls or anything, just the bag of chips and a tupperware container of chickpea spread. 

“Oh thank the gods,” Taako says. “Lulu was about to send out a search party, it’s been two whole hours since she got to see you.” 

“Zip it, ‘ko!” Lup says, elbowing him. “Who’s the one mopin’ about his boyfriend being held up at work?” 

“I’m not mopin’! Who’s mopin’? Not Taako,” Taako says. He bites another pita chip morosely. Barry pats him on the shoulder and takes a pita chip. Taako hisses. 

“They’re my chips,” Barry says, without any heat. “This is, uh, my house, Taako.” 

“That’s irrelevant, my dude. Mine,” Taako says, and then passes the bag over anyway. 

Barry takes another chip and dips it in the hummus. “So what’s your boy held up with?” Barry asks, not missing the way Taako smiles  when Barry calls Kravitz _his_ boy.

Taako sighs theatrically, ears tilting downward. “Some sorta breakout, it’s no big deal, but apparently your boss-lady called him in to deal with some of the stragglers. Nothin’ for you to worry about, Barold.” 

Barry wonders if he should tell Taako he probably shouldn’t call the Raven Queen “boss-lady.” But if Lup can call her “Big Momma” and get away with it, Taako is probably safe, especially considering he’s dating her favorite reaper. 

“How’d tutoring go?” he asks Lup instead. 

Lup smiles and pops a chip in her mouth. “‘ood,” she says, still chewing. “Kiddo’s gettin’ better at actual casting. Nearly blew me up, though. Gotta work on his control.” 

“Agnes is all boned up on his theory stuff,” Taako adds. “It’s his actual _magic_ that’s kinda funky sometimes — but hey, the kid’s eleven. He’s got time to work up to those _big_ spell slots.” 

“He’s turning twelve next month, right?” Barry asks. He likes Angus a lot. It’s been decades since he’s spent any meaningful amount of time with preteens, but Angus has a good head on his shoulders, asks interesting questions, and shows earnest enthusiasm for a lot of things an eleven-year-old should know _nothing_ about. They spent last weekend looking at blood splatter patterns, with Angus eagerly explaining what each meant. He reminds Barry a lot of himself as a kid, actually. 

“Do I look like I know when the boy’s birthday is?” Taako says, wrinkling his nose. “It’s next month. The twenty-second, I think.” 

“We should do something,” Lup says. “Bake a cake, the works.” 

Barry nods. “Think the kid will appreciate a surprise party?” 

“Doesn’t matter if he does,” Taako says airily, fooling no one in the room. Barry’s listened to Taako enthuse about Angus’s magical ability. Barry’s listened to Taako gleefully recount the many ways Angus runs rings around his peers. He’s gone to Angus’s soccer games and watched Taako curse out the referee and nearly get himself banned from attending future matches. Taako likes the kid. It’s obvious. 

“Probably,” Lup says. “I’ll float the idea by him — subtly.” 

“Honey, you’re the opposite of subtle,” Barry says. “Let’s get —” He pauses. No one in their family is good at being anything but blunt. Not even Lucretia, who mostly gets by on lies of omission. 

“Ren,” Taako says, after a beat. “We’ll get Ren to do it – ‘cause, full offense Lulu, you’re _awful_ at bein’ subtle.” 

Lup sticks her tongue out at both of them, eyes scrunching up at the corners, and it’s, well — “Cute,” Barry says, grinning.

Taako makes a retching sound and pantomimes gagging“If you two are going to be _gross_ , I’m going to _leave,_ ” he says, but doesn’t move from his seat. 

Barry chuckles. He likes this. Taako sitting next to him at the kitchen table, Lup across from him. It’s comfortable.

#

Family dinner means that eventually Lup and Taako actually need to make food, not just eat it. Taako drags himself away from the kitchen table, grumbling about the weight of the expectation to cook every time they have one of these things, like he wouldn’t be deeply offended if someone else offered to take the job. Merle’s suggested holding group dinners at Chesney’s once. It didn’t go over well.

When Lup and Taako cook together, Barry might as well not exist. Neither of them _really_ trusts him in the kitchen — Lup slightly more than Taako, but she’s his wife, so love softens her opinions on his cooking — and the kitchen has been their sole domain for longer than Barry’s been alive. The way they work with each other, the way they move around the room, is almost choreographed. Barry sits at the table and watches them, not disturbing their rhythm because he knows it was work to get it back. 

Taako was alone for so long; Lup was without her body. They fought for this and Barry is proud of them, watching Lup pass Taako’s mage hand the fancy rosemary oil before he even asks for it, watching as Taako keeps slicing onions through the exchange. They’re a well-oiled machine and it’s a sight for sore eyes. This is what home and family feels like, for him, and yeah, it’s been a while since the end of the world, but sometimes the warmth and familiarity of this hits Barry all at once.

“Are you really using _breadcrumbs_ for the crust on the rack of lamb?” Taako asks, abruptly, taking notice of whatever Lup’s doing to the meat.

“Uh, of _course_ I’m using breadcrumbs,” Lup says. “Are you telling me you’re too fancy for breadcrumbs now?”

“I mean, I didn’t know you wanted to _ruin_ this piece of meat, but sure, whatever, Taako ain’t saying anything if you’re—” He lets out a squawk of pain as Lup swats him with a spatula and the peaceful moment rapidly devolves into squabbling over the ideal lamb coating, and whether or not breadcrumbs are involved. Barry’s too used to the whirlwind of affection and casual violence that is the twins’ relationship to really be concerned, but the doorbell does save him the trouble of deciding whether he should intervene before it becomes a true free-for-all.

“I’m gonna get that,” he says, getting to his feet. “Please don’t throw raw meat around the kitchen.”

“Uh, you have literal _corpses_ in your basement, Barold. Don’t talk to _me_ about cross-contamination potential. Cha’boy’s a professional.”

“Love you,” Lup says, and flicks a handful of freshly chopped thyme at Taako’s hair.

Barry smiles. “Love you too,” he says, and leaves before Taako gets creative with his onions.

#

Family dinners are large affairs. That was true on the Starblaster and its even truer now — Merle brings Mavis and Mookie; Angus is always in attendance; Ren comes more often than not; Carey and Killian stop by when they can; and there’s Kravitz, obviously. Sometimes Magnus brings his dogs, and if Avi’s in the area, he always shows up. Davenport comes when he’s close enough to swing by, and then there’s Lucretia — never the first to arrive, always the first to leave, but _present_ , and if Taako’s occasionally cooks her favourite foods and tries to play it off with pointed comments about _not remembering_ she likes them, well, that’s better than things could be.

Tonight’s a real family dinner though, just the core crew, Merle’s kids, Angus, and one dog — and maybe Barry feels bad thinking about that as a _real_ family dinner, but it’s true. He’s still working on getting to know everyone else.

The early evening is chilly, but the sun’s still bright in the sky. Angus, Mavis, and Mookie are playing with Johann on the lawn. and everyone’s settled on the back porch, bundled up in coats with the added protection of a few blankets. 

Barry exits the kitchen through the back door and hands Merle a beer and Lucretia a large glass of wine. Magnus is already nursing a beer of his own and Davenport has cucumber water because he flew Merle and the kids over from Bottlenose Cove and is flying them back too. They all learned their lesson about flying under the influence during cycle one. The Starblaster hovers somewhere above the house, cloaked in illusion spells so as not to draw attention. Barry sits next to Lucretia on the porch steps with his own wine.

It’s almost like being back on the ship, except everyone’s older and more settled and there are kids and a dog around now. They sit in comfortable silence, watching Mookie chase Angus around the tree in the middle of the yard, Johann barking excitedly at them both, Mavis laughing at them from a safe distance.

“This is nice,” Magnus says, after a moment. “I mean, not that I don’t love everyone else, but it’s nice to be with, you know, _us_.”

There’s a loud crash from inside the house.

“Sounds like home,” Lucretia agrees, with a playful smile, and Barry can’t help laughing.

“Do you remember the swamp plane?” he asks. “Where everyone was dragonborn and everything tasted…” Barry pauses, searching for the word, but there really isn’t a single term that describes the murky flavour of mud and marsh that was ingrained in everything, even the meat. The whole plane had been muggy and humid and hot and no matter how many spell slots he burned, his clothes were always damp within the hour. “Swampy?”

“Jurassic plane,” Magnus says, nodding in agreement.

“Everything was cold blooded,” Lucretia says. “And they wouldn’t let Taako into the communal kitchens because they said his magic would contaminate the food.”

Davenport groans into his cucumber water. “The break-in,” he says, long-suffering and pained, even decades after the incident.

Merle lets out a bark of laughter. “Shit,” he says. “I don’t know how you forget you can cast true sight so you _don’t_ fall all over each other staging your two-person, invisible break-in.”

“ _I_ don’t know how you break into a kitchen to make a sandwich and end up burning the place down,” Davenport says.

Barry laughs. They _all_ do. They know each other better than most people ever will — a century on the run together, fighting together, will do that for you.

“Lup,” he says, in unison with Lucretia.

Davenport sighs and looks at his water like he wishes it were something stronger. “Lup,” he agrees.

Magnus snorts. “I dunno. You gotta give Taako some credit too. Do you remember — do you remember what he said while we were running away?”

“He just wanted some _fucking_ salt,” Lucretia says, in a perfect imitation of Taako’s voice. “And then —”

“So you _burned down the village_?” Barry finishes, in his best Davenport, which is extraordinarily bad but does the job — Magnus bursts out laughing and the rest of them follow, even Davenport, who at the time had been pretty much the only one who didn’t find the entire incident _hilarious_. They’d all made it back to the Starblaster in one piece. They’d even managed to find the Light of Creation that cycle. When the worst they had to complain about was bad food, it was a good year.

“What’s so funny?” Taako asks, standing in the doorway to the house behind them, ears perked at attention.

“Are you having a good time _without_ us?” Lup asks, hooking her chin over Taako’s shoulder. “It’s dinnertime, babes.”

“Herb crusted rack of lamb,” Taako says. “Prepared _two_ ways. You can tell us which one you think is best.”

#

Dinner is good. Barry’s careful to eat an equal portion from both racks of lamb — no one is ever going to know that he prefers the version without breadcrumbs  _ slightly _ more than the version with. There are potatoes roasted in rosemary-infused olive oil and candied carrots and a citrus salad studded with jewel-like pomegranate seeds. It’s delicious — everything the twins make is delicious — and Barry drinks enough to feel warm and buzzed and eats enough to be comfortably full. 

They linger around the table, nursing their drinks as Taako attempts to drag a definite answer out of them about whose lamb is superior. “C’mon, Maggie. You’ve got a plate full of bones. You’ve _gotta_ have a favourite,” he says, reaching across the table to prod Magnus’s arm. “If you _had_ to choose.”

Magnus shoots Barry a look begging for help, but there’s no way Barry’s wading into this. “I, uh, the one with the thick crust is good?” he says, gesturing to the remains of Lup’s breadcrumb coated rack.

“Fuck, yeah!” Lup says, pumping her fist in the air. “I _told_ you breadcrumbs was the better option.”

“This proves _nothing_. I’ve seen Magnus eat rocks,” Taako says. “I’ve seen Magnus eat _relics_.”

“Same thing,” Merle says.

Taako shakes his head, a dark look on his face. “ _Multiple rocks_.”

“I preferred the version without the breadcrumbs,” Lucretia says. “It was lighter.”

That takes the wind out of Taako’s sails. He glances at her, his grudge and his need for praise warring with each other for a long moment, before he  nods in acknowledgment. “Madam Director with her refined tastes, huh?”

Barry rolls his eyes and squeezes Lup’s knee under the table. “Angus, Lup says your grand fireball is coming along?”

Angus looks away from the intense conversation he and Mavis are having about the latest Caleb Cleveland novel and smiles. “Oh yes!” he says. “I did almost blow us both up today, but other than that, it’s going really well.”

“Gotta get that spell-shaping going,” Lup says, which is enough to distract Taako from both Lucretia and the lamb debate.

“D’jango is _not_ specializing in evocation,” he says. “Tell them, pumpkin — transmutation is where it’s at.”

Angus adjusts his glasses. “Actually, sir, Captain Davenport and I have been keeping up our correspondence and illusion magic seems like it would be very useful for detective work,” he says, a slight tilt to his smile the only indication that he’s _absolutely_ fucking with Taako.

Taako clutches a hand over his chest. “After everything I’ve done for you, I can’t _believe_ you’re betraying me like this. And for _Davenport_?”

Across the table, Davenport raises an eyebrow. “What _about_ Davenport, Taako?” he asks.

Taako pauses, visibly weighs his options, and then looks at Angus again. “Let’s see this fireball, bubelah. You’ve got the five most powerful mages in the planar system lookin’ out for you. You’re good without that spell shapin’ nonsense.”

“Maybe outside?” Barry suggests.

Lup perks up beside him. “Oh shit! You wanna use my targets for practice? I’m gonna drag out my targets,” she says, clambering to her feet. “You’ve rested, right? You’ve got your slots back.” She doesn’t wait for Angus to confirm before tearing out of the room, grabbing Barry’s coat and pulling it on as she runs out the  door.

Taako’s hot on her heels. “You’re an _evocation_ wizard! You could just keep yourself warm with a spell, dingus!”

Barry raises his wineglass to Angus in acknowledgement. “Thanks,” he says. “Sorry you’re putting on a show for us now.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Angus promises. “I really should work on my aim.”

Barry probably shouldn’t be surprised when Angus’s spell veers off course and hits the tree. He _definitely_ shouldn’t laugh when Lup and Taako — as Taako said, two of the most powerful mages in the planar system — panic and throw equally useless spells at the fire — Lup conjures a gust of wind that spreads flames across the grass as Taako throws Otiluke’s resilient sphere up around Angus, encasing him in a bubble that’ll keep the kid safe from harm, but also stops him moving away from the fire or casting any spells to help contain it.

He’s glad it’s Davenport, and not him, that conjures the tidal wave that drenches both Lup and Taako as it douses the flames, leaving the lawn and tree only a _little_ worse for the wear. Taako and Lup stand stock-still, soaking wet, identical looks of shock on their faces as they stare at everyone who wisely decided to watch Angus practice from the porch instead of getting up close and personal.

Barry’s the first one to break. He absolutely loses his shit over Lup and Taako’s twin expressions of disbelief, doubling over as Lup squelches across the grass to hit his arm. “I’m wearing _your_ coat,” she says. “This is _your coat_ that’s soaked.”

“If it happened to me, you’d be laughing too,” Barry says, trying to calm himself, gasping for air. “Oh my gods, your _faces_.”

Lup and Taako share a silent exchange as Taako joins them on the porch, and then they’re both on him, hugging Barry tight as he tries to squirm out of their wet embrace with a yelp of protest.

“You’re right,” Lup says, laughing in his ear. “You’re _absolutely_ right, babe. That _is_ a good face!”

#

Barry, Lup and Taako all change into dry clothes — Taako and Lup’s wardrobes have never been entirely separate entities so Taako has plenty of options at their place. Clothes exchanged, Barry makes coffee to go with dessert while Taako whips cream by hand — he doesn’t trust a spell not to over do it — and Lup slices strawberries. Everyone else sits in the living room, the kids on the floor with Magnus and Johann, Davenport and Merle sharing the smaller couch, Lucretia curled up in the corner of the other.

Dessert is pavlova. Taako and Lup pile crisp meringue with the strawberries and cream and slice it up, overlapping mage hands setting up a production line of coffee and pavlova preparation until everyone’s been served. Barry sits on the couch beside Lucretia, and Lup and Taako crowd in next to him. It reminds him of being on the Starblaster even more than the explosions or dinner did. They rarely stood on ceremony for meals after the first couple years, rarely did the formal table seating thing unless it was a special occasion, and even those grew more and more casual over the decades.

Lup curls up against his side and rests her head on his shoulder. When Barry looks down at her, she’s watching him, smiling. “What’s up?” he asks.

Lup shakes her head ever so slightly, glancing around the living room. They’re in their own little bubble for the moment, everyone else too distracted by whatever they’re talking about to pay the two of them much attention. “Nothing,” she says. “Just thinking. This is nice.”

Barry can’t help stealing a kiss, brief and unnoticed. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Real nice.”

Their guests — their family — leave in a slow trickle as the evening wears on and it grows dark outside.

Mookie eats a double helping of dessert and falls asleep on top of Johann, which is Merle’s cue to pack it in. Davenport levitates Mookie into the Starblaster and they head off together — a streak of bright light across the horizon. Then it’s Lucretia, gathering her elegant white coat and saying she has a Bureau meeting in the morning, but it’s been lovely as always. Magnus and Angus stay a little longer, but eventually they’re off too, along with Johann, in the rickety cart Magnus bought for himself and painted with an advertisement for the Hammer and Tails, as if Magnus Burnside’s business _needs_ any advertising.

They leave, and Barry ends the night like he used to end a lot of nights: sitting on the couch with Lup and Taako asleep next to him, wedged together. They both have a tendency to cling in their sleep. Barry’s been the recipient of involuntary snuggling from both parties. When the two of them fall asleep in the same vicinity, they inevitably end up smashed together in a sleep-talking twin tangle that makes identical protesting noises if someone tries to pry them apart. Barry figures it has something to do with growing up together, alone. 

Lup’s legs are across Barry’s lap, and when he puts his hand on them, she twitches a little. He smiles. He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck.

If he doesn’t get started on the cleanup now, it’s going to be a pain in the butt in the morning. Plates, saucepans, cutlery, glasses, everything needs to be washed and put away. 

If he doesn’t do it, Lup will take care of things when she wakes up, or she’ll make Taako do it for her, but Barry doesn’t mind doing the washing up. It’s fair — she cooks, he cleans. Chores used to be divided on the Starblaster using a chore-chart, and if he picked dishwashing duty most nights to spend more time with Lup in the kitchen — her sitting with a cup of tea and heckling him about where to put the plates — well, that’s his own business. 

In retrospect, the fact that she always hung around in the kitchen while Barry cleaned up was a sign he missed. There were years of that, the two of them orbiting each other in smaller and smaller circles until they finally met. He doesn’t regret the time it took. He doesn’t think that the woman he met at I.P.R.E. orientation and the man he was more than a century ago could have been what they are to each other now. He wouldn’t trade what they have for any other life. 

He moves Lup’s legs off of his lap, folding them gently onto the couch. She doesn’t wake up, just mumbles and smushes her face further into Taako’s shoulder. 

Barry stretches and walks to the kitchen, dimming the lights in the living room as he leaves. 

He levitates most of the dishes over to the sink, gets one mage hand to work washing them and another rinsing them off. He’d use prestidigitation, but that’s not particularly good for large volumes of objects. A third mage hand places dishes back in their proper place.

Barry is one of the most powerful mages in Faerun — if he can’t use his magic for easy domestic tasks, what good is he? 

He sits at the table while directing the suite of spells. From here, he can see the whole kitchen and into the living room, where Taako and Lup have stretched out across the entire couch. He can hear talking, but since neither of them are moving, he suspects they’re still asleep. Sometimes they’ll have full conversations while unconscious. 

It’s nice having them both in his line-of-sight. There was a long stretch where he only saw Taako in brief snatches, hovering invisible at his shows, watching Taako smile his showman’s smile. And Lup was nowhere to be found at all. Still, the memory of loss was better than the forgetting, and he so often didn’t remember her — and that was the worst of it, when his heart longed for something it could not describe. 

These days, he sees Lup constantly — at home, at work, in bed — and if he wants to see Taako, all he has to do is visit the school, or go to Taako’s house Half the time, Taako is over at their place anyway. If he wants to see _anyone_ , all he has to do is call, or visit, or invite them over. It’s a treasure he didn’t fully value back on the Starblaster. 

Barry watches the twins on the couch for a long moment, marveling in the sheer _ordinariness_ of it all. 

Eventually he has to walk over to where they’re sleeping because Lup’s managed to contort her body into some sort of pretzel, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s definition of comfortable. 

“Hey,” he says softly, shaking her shoulder. Lup frowns a little in her sleep, her forehead wrinkling. Barry smooths it away, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hey, wake up,” he whispers. 

“Mmm-no,” Lup says, but cracks an eye open anyway. “Hi, Barry.” 

“Hi, Lup,” Barry says. 

“Wha-a’ time is it?” Lup asks, raising an arm over her head and stretching. 

“Quarter past one,” Barry says, catching her hand in his own and squeezing affectionately. “Bedtime, sleepyhead.” 

“Mm,” Lup says, still half asleep. She disentangles her fingers from his, lowering her arm to poke Taako in the stomach. Taako spasms, eyes flying open. 

“Wha’s happenin’?” he asks, curling away from Lup and throwing an arm across his eyes. “Go ‘way.” 

“You can sleep in the gues’ bedroom,” Lup says. “Inna real person bed.” 

She says “guest bedroom,” but everyone knows that basically means Taako’s room, because he’s over so often. It’s got the sheets Taako likes and everything. 

“Mmkay,” Taako says, but makes no motion to get up. Neither does Lup, who has closed her eyes again. Barry shakes both their shoulders. 

“C’mon, up, unless you want me to levitate the two of you,” he says, which finally does the trick. It’s not an idle threat. He’s followed through before. They open their eyes and get up, grumbling as they stretch. 

“Cleanup?” Lup asks, and yawns hugely before leaning against him. 

“I’m taking care of it,” Barry says, and pushes her gently in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll be up soon.” 

She waves a hand in assent and meanders over to the stairs. Taako has already disappeared up to his bedroom, closing the door behind him without saying goodnight. Barry watches Lup walk upstairs, before turning back to the living room to collect coffee cups, spoons, saucers. 

He dumps them in the sink, adding them to the dishwashing line that he’s got going. All that’s left to do now is wait and wipe down the tables. 

# 

Barry’s just putting the last few dishes away by hand when the doorbell rings. He doesn’t jump, because he’s a trained professional who isn’t scared by a quiet musical _ding!_ in his own home. He _does_ almost drop the bowl he’s holding, because never let anyone say that Barry Bluejeans is not easily startled. He puts the bowl down and walks over to the door to peek through the peephole. 

A handsome man wrapped in a dark cloak, carrying a wicked scythe, standing outside on their porch. Barry swings the door open and Kravitz smiles, looking surprisingly self-conscious for death himself and Barry’s boss. 

“Hey, Kravitz,” Barry says, waving Kravitz in. “What’s up? Uh, work visit or personal?” 

If it’s a work visit, that means its all hands on deck in the astral plane and Barry needs to go grab his scythe, cloak, and wife — along with said wife’s cloak and scythe — so they can portal over. If its a personal visit, it means Kravitz is looking for his boyfriend. 

“Personal,” Kravitz says, a little sheepishly. “Sorry to impose so late — I meant to come for dinner, but, well, work, and time in the astral plane is always a little bit off, you know how it is… Um, is Taako still here?” 

“He’s in the guest bedroom, or at least he’s supposed to be.” Barry says. Taako has a habit of turning up in strange places. 

“I can grab him and take him home,” Kravitz says, as if he doesn’t know that Taako spends half his time at Barry and Lup’s anyway. Kravitz looks tired himself, actually. His physical form is starting to fuzz at the edges where the effort of keeping a construct up is becoming strenuous. Kravitz was already at work when Taako came over earlier, Barry remembers. He came all this way to find his boyfriend. 

“You could just stay over,” Barry suggests. “Taako’s probably asleep and you know how awful he is when, uh, you try to move him.” 

The side of Kravitz’s mouth quirks up, but he hesitates. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose—“ 

Barry waves him off. “It’s no trouble.” 

From what Barry has seen of Kravitz and Taako together, he thinks that this might be a permanent thing. Kravitz follows Taako around with the starry-eyed wonder that Barry remembers from the first few years he and Lup were officially an item. And Taako brings Kravitz to the house; he makes Kravitz taste-test his cooking; he mopes when Kravitz is busy. Barry doesn’t remember Taako doing that with any of his flings — and maybe part of that was symptomatic of only staying in one place for a year at a time, but Taako is different, with Kravitz. 

“Thank you,” Kravitz says. “That’s very kind.” 

They’re still at the level of formality where Kravitz says things like that, but Barry thinks it’s going to deteriorate fast. It’s hard not to get drawn into the casual, comfortable familiarity that his family radiates like heat from a flame. 

“You’re welcome,” Barry says. “His bedroom’s upstairs and down the hall, to the left.” 

# 

Barry slips in between the sheets of their bed. Lup, cocooned in blankets, turns toward him and reached for him in the dark.He reaches back.

“You’re late,” she murmurs, voice soft from slumber. 

“You’re still awake,” he says with some surprise, setting his glasses down on the nightstand and settling in next to her. 

“Was waiting for you.” She tugs him toward her and he obligingly wiggles nearer so she can press herself against him and wrap a leg around him. She’s clingy when she’s tired — Barry loves it. 

He pulls her closer to him, his arm around her back, and closes his eyes. She smells like smoke, like clean cloth, like something that he can’t identify, but his brain immediately identifies as _Lup_. 

“Mm,” Lup sighs. “Remember when we used to talk about the future?” 

“Yeah,” Barry says. 

They used to come up with elaborate plans, whispering together late at night, on the edge of sleep. Plans for what they would do when they finally defeated the Hunger. Some nights, they dreamed up daring adventures — Lup would travel and Barry would come with her, and of course everyone else would be there too. Other nights they talked about living in a castle where he’d be the terrifying Dr. Frankenstein, raising the dead in the basement, and she’d be the femme fatale who all the townsfolk feared. They talked about becoming professionals in their fields, Dr. and Dr. Bluejeans with offices at a university somewhere, going respectable after all these years. 

But most nights, this is what they decided: When everything was over, they would live in a house with a yard in the back with plenty of space for evocation practice. There would be a lab in the basement for Barry’s necromancy, and a library for both of their books. Taako would live with them — for Lup that was never a question — unless he wanted to live somewhere else. Their fridge would always be full. They would have their family over for lunches and dinners and weekends. They would be free to stay in one place for as long as they wanted, and to make friends knowing they wouldn’t have to leave. 

“We got there in the end, didn’t we?” Lup whispers. 

Barry smiles and closes his eyes, tugging Lup just a little bit closer. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We did.”

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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